


Rumor

by cherryvanilla



Category: Actor RPF, Music RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-21
Updated: 2010-11-21
Packaged: 2017-10-13 07:49:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/134882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryvanilla/pseuds/cherryvanilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rumors and Return of the King.  Written May 2005.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rumor

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a series of photos from the Return of the King premiere.

You're at the Return of the King New York premiere when you spot him, a few feet away from you, on the red carpet. You'd heard the rumors, of course. See, people seem to think that the so-called "internet rumors" are started *on* the internet, when in actuality, they start in L.A. You can't go to a Hollywood party without hearing the buzz of who's blowing whom, or who's just doing blow. L.A. is worse than a girls’ high school locker room. Long story short, you'd heard all of the supposed dirt on him: The shotgun wedding, the ex-boyfriend that broke his heart, the kid that might not be his, the addiction problems. The only difference being these rumors seemed to be empathically true. You’ve never heard any variation on the tales, just quiet, strong convictions of truth from loud-mouthed celebrities and rent boys. You convince yourself there's nothing wrong with walking backwards, slowly, until you reach where they are standing. You've grown enough as an actor to make the collision look genuine. You turn and smile at the three faces.

"Hey, it's Frodo!” Isaac, you think, cries out good-naturedly.

"Hey, man," you smile and shake his hand.

"You're uh, really cool," Zach says next, and if you hadn't already known he was the youngest, that statement would've given it away. You smile at him and pat him on the shoulder, as you move ever so casually to the right. He falls into step in front of you and you glance up as he looks down.

"Hey," he says softly and somehow you'd known he'd be quiet and calm and still. "You're really great in these."

"Thanks," you respond and slowly extend your hand.

He clasps it, barely shaking, just holding it against his own. "I'm Taylor."

"Elijah."

His mouth quirks up at that, but he doesn't say 'I know.’ Suddenly, your throat is dry and your mind is blank.

"Uh, hope you enjoy it tonight."

"I'm sure I will," he purrs. That's the only word for it: purrs. You're in way over your head here.

"Elijah! Hey, Elijah!"

You turn, letting go of his hand as if burned. There's a row of photographers in front of you and you wonder just how much they've seen. "How about a picture?"

You smile and step backwards, suddenly in between Zach and Taylor. You adjust yourself so your right hand is just barely grazing Zach's back, while your left slips low on Taylor's waist. He doesn't acknowledge it in any way and then there's a series of flashes blinding you for long seconds. When you feel his hand slide down your back and over your ass, you start, staring up at him, eyes wide with shock. The flash goes off just then, and you curse silently. The bastard still looks completely unfazed.

* * * * *

After the film, you find him sitting one of the large couches in the lobby, indulging photographers as they stop, snap, and move along. You break away from the crowd and join him.

"Well?"

"Amazing."

"You're just saying that," you tease, but his face is oddly serious.

"No, it really was. You were wonderful. It was all ... so beautiful."

You guess it really affected him, then. Hell, you cried like a baby the first time you saw it.

"Thanks, man."

He flashes you a brilliant smile and you think back to the rumors. You don't want the drug ones to be true. Or even the whore ones. However, you do want to get laid, and you want him, badly. Casual sex with you doesn't make him a whore. You wonder why you feel so protective of him.

"You want to get out of here?” He suggests, purring again.

"Yes," you say, determined to forget everything you've heard.

* * * * *

His mouth is cherry sweet, tastes like candy and sugar and all those other things you always thought were clichéd and never real. But it is with him, and he's got you pressed against the door of your hotel room as you struggle to hold onto something, deciding on his hair, stroking your hands through and god, it's soft.

He breathes your name into your neck, licking and sucking and biting. You arch against him, legs going up to wrap around his waist, mimicking so many past photographs of yourself and the Lord of the Rings cast. If anything, he should be thinking *you're* the slut. But you really weren't. Flirt, yes. Slut, no. You drunkenly kissed Orli a few times, and dated Dom for a while, but that was it.

He's moaning against your neck, pushing you harder against the door as you dig your heels into the small of his back. Suddenly he spins you around so fast you feel dizzy, and dumps you, unceremoniously, on the bed.

He starts to undress slowly, and you sit up, shucking of your jacket and tie, unbuttoning your shirt. You're working on your pants when his hands close over yours. You look up and he's naked and beautiful, his body golden perfection. He strips you of your pants and underwear, settling his body on top of you. You moan and thrust against him, wrapping your legs around him again, unable to help yourself. You'd let him fuck you if he wanted; would let him do anything. He kisses you again, tongue invading your mouth in hot, sharp thrusts, fucking you with his tongue the way he would his cock. Your tongues clash and collide, pulling and teasing, licking at lips and teeth and gums. You never want to stop this, start thrusting desperately against him. Your cocks jut and slide against one another, violently. You can't stop now, so fucking close you want to scream. He starts licking a wet path across your jaw, up to your ear, teasing the shell, biting the lobe.

"Fuck. Tay.. "

His hips bear down hard, so hard and he starts thrusting in earnest, hissing, "yes. god, come on..” You meet his every thrust with vigor, your heel brushing the crevice of his ass again and again.

"Now.. oh, now..” He latches onto your throat, sucking hard as your hips fly upward repeatedly, your balls tightening as your cock spurts hot fluid against his stomach. His hair brushes your throat, and it feels amazingly coarse against your over sensitized skin as his body shakes. You hold him tightly as his hips jerk forward once more, and then it's over. He collapses onto you, hot uneven breath fanning your neck, making you shiver. You slide your sweat-slicked palms down his wet back, over his ass as your legs fall, boneless, back onto the bed. He lifts his head and kisses you so softly you almost gasp in surprise. It's a tender, heartbreaking kiss and you mold your mouth to his, relishing in the languidness.

He gets up a few minutes later, retrieves a towel to clean you both up, then settles against you again. You almost expected him to grab his clothes and walk out.

"That was hot," he says after he literally bounces onto the bed, lying propped against the headboard next to you in all his naked glory. He brushes his unruly hair out of his eyes. You're not used to being with someone so ... delicate, fragile, yet fiercely intense. You're usually the china doll in this situation.

"Yeah, it was."

"You want me to go?"

"Huh?” You're sure your eyes are comically wide.

"Guys usually want me to go after," he admits quietly.

Maybe you had it all wrong. Maybe he's just a socially repressed gay boy in a hopeless marriage, looking for someone to make him feel good without shame, afterwards. You can do that.

You put an arm around him and pull him down onto your chest. "No, stay."

He sighs and you feel his eyelashes flutter closed. Maybe tomorrow you'll get to know one another outside of bed. Maybe you'll ask to see him again once you're back in L.A. For now, you idly stroke his hair and let your eyes drift shut.

[end]


End file.
